Surprise
by Sweet Shiva
Summary: Falling in love with your best friend sucks, end of story. RW/HP. Slash. One-Shot.


This just something I wrote to get me out of writer's block. I didn't plan on publishing it, but whatever.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own it. Bring your lawsuits elsewhere.

Warning: Slash, just like all my other stories written so far, get used to it, or leave if you don't like it. RW/HP.

* * *

**Surprise**

Harry supposed it was inevitable, really, Ron hooking up with Hermione. The two love-birds had been chasing each other's tails since second year; it was inevitable, bound to happen…

Somehow, the thought didn't help the bitter ache in his chest, nor did it cure the burning in his throat when he saw the couple traipsing about the grounds.

He'd admit he was jealous; and not of Ron, but of Hermione.

It was ironic really, that the very moment he gather's enough courage to confess his sentiments to the young Weasley, he goes off and becomes an item with the very girl he thought of as a sister. To top it off, Ron told him details, of _every_thing.

"… Yeah, mate, she's really something…"

"… And yesterday, you should've been there…"

"… She's brilliant…"

Now, how was that fair?

How could he _possibly_ compete with Hermione?

He could stand living at the sideline, but going through each day with a constant reminder of why he felt miserable… It got to him more than he'd like to admit. So, naturally, being the "brave" Gryffindor he was, he began to "strategically" avoid them. He'd snatch something from the kitchen, instead of eating in the Great Hall. He would make a point of steering clear of the library, finishing his homework in the Room of Requirements as an alternative. He would even go as far as to sleep on the couches in the Common Room, rather than sleep on bed in his dorms, so close to Ron.

Harry knew the couple noticed, but the subject was never brought up; he made sure of that.

Harry sighed softly, squirming on top of the uncomfortable stone stairs that led to Hagrid's cabin. He had stopped by earlier, just to talk. Hagrid always knew what to say when Harry was in a declining mood, he was a good listener, too.

The sun was slowly making it's decent behind the forested mountains surrounding the school's western flank, painting the sky in delicate, pastel hues. It was time to return to the shelter of the castle. With that thought in mind, the gloomy teenager slowly trekked back to the castle, heading for his dorm in the Gryffindor Tower.

Once he got there, he flopped on his bed, lazily toeing off his trainers. It was dinner time, and the rooms were abandoned, keeping him clear of his friend's scrutiny. He curled up in a comfortable position on the comforter, hugging a pillow against his frame. As he was about to drift off into sleep, however, the door clicked open.

Harry sat up quickly, staring at a sober Ron Weasley entering the room, carrying a tray of food. It was only when the delectable scent wafted across the room that Harry realized how hungry he was. He'd forgotten his routine stop by the Kitchen.

"Hey," He began awkwardly, breaking the silence. Ron thrust the food on his lap, and sat next to him on the bed, the dip in the mattress bringing them closer together. The red-head starred at the ceiling thoughtfully, before responding:

"This is the third time."

Harry looked up from his chicken pot-pie, slightly vexed.

"Third time, what?" He inquired, prodding the morsels on his plate with his fork.

"The third time that you've skipped dinner, and breakfast, this week…" the taller Gryffindor trailed off, studying the be-speckled boy with narrowed, cobalt blue orbs.

"Care to explain?"

"I haven't been hungry," Harry answered, waving his hand dismissively, hoping Ron would drop the subject, "Anyways, how have things been going between you and 'Mione?"

Ron scowled.

"There you go again, changing the subject when you don't want to talk about something. What do you think I am, daft?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow, an unbidden grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Ron squawked in mock indignation, poking Harry relentlessly in the side, whilst stealing a piece of chicken.

"I'm not _that_ bad," he complained, "'Sides, we're not here to talk about me, as awesome as that subject would be, but about my best mate."

Ron flopped horizontally across the mattress, folding his arms under his head.

"Now," he began, "you can either tell me what's got you knickers in a twist, or Hermione, who's currently prowling the Common Room, jumping for a chance to give you a questionnaire; lucky you."

Harry felt a flash of irritation, scooting over and placing the now empty tray on his trunk at the bedside.

"Can't you just drop it?" he quipped, slowly picking at the loose fiber's from his crimson comforter.

"No, I won't just 'drop it,' not when you've obviously been miserable the last few months," Ron stated, looking stubborn, and just about everything else that made Harry's stomach flip.

"Well, if you don't like it, why don't you go off and play with your girlfriend?" he snapped, turning away from the other boy. Off to the side, an alarm clock shot from the dark, mahogany night stand, and Ron blinked, surprised. He hadn't realized Harry was so upset. He grabbed a pillow and gently thumped Harry on the top of the head, a small rebuke.

"Hey, that's real low, Harry. You know me and 'Mione broke it off some week's back," the freckled teenager complained softly. Surprised, Harry whipped around, trying to squash the spark of _something_ in his chest.

"What?" he asked incredulously. Ron rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement.

"And you all say _I'm_ forgetful," the Gryffindor stated. At Harry's still lost expression, he decided to elaborate.

"Remember? I told you a few weeks ago, we were just too… different. I couldn't really relate to her, with all her research projects and homework expeditions, and she couldn't really take my laziness and "obsession" with Quidditch. We're great friends and all, but I think we made a terrible couple, y'know?"

Harry couldn't say he did; he was to busy trying to process the very _idea_ of it all. Ron continued:

"There was also someone who'd been catching my eye for a while now. Unfortunately, they've been _real_ difficult to hang out with, always avoiding me."

"Oh," Harry muttered, a small feeling of hopelessness forming in the pit of his stomach. He should have known it was pointless in the beginning. What kind of loser falls for his best friend?

Ron sighed in exasperation.

"Y'know what? You'd think a bloke would know when someone was trying to make a pass at him," Ron griped, a tad bit piqued; Harry was supposed to be the perceptive one, not the other way around.

"What?" Harry repeated; his voice cracked. Ron exhaled loudly, before grabbing his friend's shoulder's and looked him square in the eyes, the picture of perfect honesty.

"Seeing as I'm just going to have to repeat myself, I might as well say it," he started, "Harry Potter, I _like _you very bloody much, and would appreciate it if you worked with me a li-"

He was cut off by Harry's surprised, loud laugh, and unexpected embrace. Harry felt his heart squeeze, in a good way, a giddy sort of feeling coursing through his body. Ron patted his shoulder and carded long fingers through wild locks.

"Does this mean you're not gonna freak out and run screaming?"

"Shut up, Ron."

* * *

To me it feels a bit choppy, but I can't tell why. Anyways, I hoped it was enjoyable.

Sweet_Shiva


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